


Be someone

by cruentum



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:46:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cruentum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>summerpornathon 2013 entry. Elyan got out because the village wasn't all that. Out on the road he could be whoever he wanted to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be someone

**Author's Note:**

> written for challenge 5 of the Merlin summerpornathon 2013: canon

"Just looking for a few coins," Elyan had still said some time ago when he met others along the way, trudging just off the road, hoods drawn into their faces. Because it kept people from asking questions. They were all looking for the same thing after all: some bread, some wine, something to forget.

He kissed a girl behind the tavern, got his face between her legs before he put his cock there, and he told her, instead, about being a knight from some faraway kingdom. She believed him too as she felt his muscles and muttered into his neck, and he got some coins from her father for some help on the farm.

The knight turned into maybe something of a secret prince, royal lineage, at least, but in hiding _ssshhh_ , as he left villages in his wake and girls with it.

"It's a secret though," he said behind the barn into a girl's ear. Her husband was watching from across the way but he was only a farmer, so who was he to interfere in practically royal business? She went with him easy into her marital bed and spread her legs for him and maybe a spawn. A kiss goodbye at the door, and he was on his way the next morning with a few men he'd picked up along the way.

The tune he whistled was the one from home though, the one his father always had on his lips as he brought the hammer down on the iron, sparks flying. The one Gwen hummed when she brushed dresses and dreamed of having been born up in the castle and not down in the shitter with the rest of them.

"It is what it is," their father used to say when Arthur and his cronies of near-equal standing rampaged through the lower village just looking for a fight. "You are who you were born to be," his father would say and press a hammer into his hand to beat the iron while it was still hot and turn the other cheek.

He'd sneaked out in the middle of the night, told Gwen that he'd make it better for them, and set out to walk the roads of the kingdom. He was a miller's son one day, a foreign prince the next, and just someone looking for adventure in the middle, as he pleased.

The girl between his legs tonight was a barmaid, without husband and without family, and she sucked the cock of a mercenary, or so he had her believe. It came easy now, to pull a story out of thin air, harder to remember why he'd left in the first place and who he'd had left behind. She slurped at him, got her mouth down all the way to his balls while he beat the iron while it was still hot (while he still had stories inside him, people he was meant to be).

He'd go back eventually, he figured, as he took her from behind over the bar a few horses were tied to. She moaned with him. He'd go back to Gwen (thrust), and his father (thrust), and the god-forsaken village (thrust thrust) and he'd be someone other than someone's son and someone's brother.

Everyone deserved to be someone.

He spent himself inside the maid, and maybe she'd carry a child from it. He'd have mattered a little then at least.


End file.
